Daffodil
by PrettyPleaseWithSugarOnTop
Summary: Hisana finally encounters her long-lost lover- from her past life. However, she cannot seem to remember him, despite her unwilling attraction... And throughout it all, there has not been one day where her memory has faded from his heart. Not an AU.
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be rather light-hearted a fic, I promise. Perhaps not extremely comedic, but still reasonably romantic and also without any severe dark themes :-)**

**In fact, the reason I chose Daffodil as a title was because the flower actually represents new life, and new beginnings. I really liked that- and I found it quite apt for the storyline.**

* * *

A thick layer of foundation. A tilt of exotic mascara. A slight flourish of dark, rich red lipstick. And finally, the swift lifting of mid-length dark locks into an elegant, chopstick-protruding bun, with gorgeous black bangs let loose to sweep across the pale face femininely.

She sat up from her small armchair, her silk pink shawl rippling. Next to her, another female, dressed in a casual yukata, was holding a clipboard and reciting the contents of her schedule today.

She was ready for today. Or as ready as she ever was.

''Today's a tough one,'' the fellow female who was holding the clipboard, named Naruki, sighed, adjusting her glasses. She was a weary-looking woman in her mid-forties. ''There'll be new guests who will be arriving this afternoon, and you'll have to cater to them. So straight after the 12 o'clock performance, and also after you tend to that batch, there'll be a brief lunch break for half an hour. And-''

She smiled fondly. Dear old Naruki. The older woman was one of the kindest and warmest staff in this place, and she was absolutely devoted to her job as the assistant manager. It was refreshing- to see someone so responsible and genuine in charge. She liked her very much.

''I understand, Naruki-san,'' the petite, dark-haired woman answered gently, a soft smile crossing her full lips. ''It's alright, just pass me my copy of today's timetable, and you can attend to your other duties.''

''Are you sure?'' Naruki asked anxiously. ''You're always so responsible- but just in case-''

She lowered a small, pale hand on her superior's shoulder. ''I'm sure.''

And with that, the assistant manager finally relented, before leaving the dressing room with a final beam at her, glasses slightly askew.

The younger woman watched her go, the small smile fading gradually from her scarlet lips as the door shut loudly. As usual, from where she stood silently by the vanity, the female currently felt like a doll- a doll that was coated with excessive cosmetics and accessories- so artificial, and so redundant. Unconsciously her bony hand reached up and grasped the small pendant lying comfortably against her protruding collarbone. It was an unusual, almost morbid article- and yet one of the few things so genuine to her, and how she so treasured it to no end.

The sturdy bamboo of the tiny, finger-tip-sized pendant was carved unmistakably into the elegant kanji, _White_. Until today, she did not know why it was so. All she truly understood was that this had been her mother's treasured pendant, and also the very same pendant that had been hanging from her neck on the day when she had been vehemently crushed to death by a demon.

_Be careful, darling_, her mother had always told her. _There are masked demons in this world, and they possess no hearts- no kindness, no empathy, and certainly no love. And yet they are not the most terrifying things in this world. Remember to fear the creatures in black, darling- for they resemble humans, and ironically hold enough power to destroy the very demons we fear._

_And if they are destructive even to demons, then- tell me, what will become of you?_

_And don't ever forget, above all- fear humans... My darling._

* * *

Abarai Renji inwardly lamented to himself as he obediently followed his superior along the verdant greenery of an almost deserted path, their footfalls quiet and serene along the hard concrete. The duo was currently walking along at a more silent and exotic part of the Living World; in a place that was far outside the boundaries of Karakura Town and yet still somewhere within Tokyo, where there was less of the bustling streets and more of the peaceful, refreshing countryside.

For Renji, he personally could not help but feel somewhat disappointed about their designated location for their new mission in the Living World. It was rare for the flame-haired Shinigami to be able to venture to this second world, and he had always been eager for the chance to explore the modern inventions and many human offerings available here whenever he could. The enthusiastic male had looked forward to donning human clothing, to try out their incredible varying fashion styles- not to be presently wearing a dark red kimono, which was not very different from the kind of clothing he wore everyday in Soul Society.

He knew that the place they were currently strolling along, that this vastly beautiful country-like land was actually a very expensive tourist attraction in Tokyo. People paid millions to come to this opulent, exotic place- with sophisticated, pretty bowl-shaped fountains gurgling every now and then along the smooth wide grounds, and the tall elegant, bamboo trees surrounding them.

And right in front of the pair, looming prominently, was the stately outline of a regal building- also known as the place's trademark hotel resort. It was a five-star hotel (Ichigo had earlier on informed an initially confused Renji that the more stars, the better the place), designed deliberately in a Japanese traditional setting.

There was no question that all of this (staying here) costed a bomb- the amount for a few days of stay probably equivalent to some years' total of Renji's salary. This was also a reason why the Captain Commander had assigned the mission to himself and the Sixth Captain- after all, if it wasn't for the latter's monetary contribution, they could've hardly afforded to be in this mission.

Renji grudgingly doubted that his captain's contribution to the bill was considered a large amount in the reticent male's point of view. After all, the Kuchiki Manor was about as large as the hotel they would currently be staying at. The money was likely chicken feed to the Kuchiki.

''Renji.''

The red-haired male instantly stood to attention at the sudden rich, calm baritone resounding unhurriedly towards him. He resisted the urge to squirm as the tall lithe back, which had initially been facing him, now turned slowly in his direction.

''Focus, Renji,'' Byakuya Kuchiki spoke quietly. ''It is unbecoming to be idle, be it in mind or body, during an assignment.''

Renji gulped. He had no idea how his captain had known he was spacing out when he had been right behind the older male the whole time. Still, the fact remained that this mission would not affect the Kuchiki as much as it did Renji- Byakuya had never displayed much interest about the Living World, or about most things, to be honest. Staying in the luxurious hotel resort would probably be of no difference to him compared to his own home in Soul Society.

''My apologies, Taicho,'' the lieutenant blurted hastily. ''I won't let it happen again.''

Said captain sent him a fleetingly impassive glance in response, his expression unfathomable. His kenseiken was currently absent, allowing the silky dark locks of his raven mane to sweep freely across the angular features of his face. ''Have you gone through the details of our report?''

Renji lowered his head respectfully. ''Yes, sir.''

It was not a complicated mission, really. In the famous Sakura Hotel Resort of the Living World, the Twelfth Division had issued reports of a few women who had been found mysteriously dead at said place within the span of a couple of months, with traces of reiatsu discovered along their corpses. This was possibly a Hollow's handiwork, but the truth was that a Hollow could've hardly been this discreet, with such little traces of violence visible at the crime scenes. The hotel had hushed the cases up, more for the sake of its renowned reputation than anything else.

Therefore, the Sixth Captain and Lieutenant had been assigned to head there while disguised as touring patrons, and to promptly see to the bottom of the mysterious matter. Since the hotel resort was set famously in the traditional ambience, they had retrieved their gigais upon reaching the Living World and simply dressed customarily in kimonos.

''I see,'' Byakuya stated, turning away, his plain white haori drifting gracefully along with the fluid movement. ''Keep it closely in mind then, Renji. We would not want another mishap here now, do we?''

The flame-haired male blinked bemusedly, before eventually following his superior along the mossy path once more. Sometimes- he simply just could never read his captain's mind. He absently wondered how Rukia did it- how she could actually live with the man, and yet never have a heart attack was completely beyond him.

* * *

Naruki blinked.

Well, the assistant manager had to admit (in her own head, of course) that it had been quite a while since she had last seen a man as attractive as the dark-haired one currently standing before her from behind the marble counter. Perfect angular features, delightfully pale skin, and exotic slanted eyes, not to mention a tall, powerfully sleek build beneath his long robes. Perhaps if more creatures like him could turn up once in a while, then slaving away in this hotel everyday would definitely be more worth it.

''Kuchiki Byakuya-sama and Abarai Renji-sama?'' Naruki said politely, looking up from her laptop screen, her respectfully inquiring gaze going past said dark-haired Adonis to the red-haired, slightly taller man behind. ''Ah. Yes. Your reservations are right here. Also, your luggage are already checked in to your respective suites, so please do not worry.''

The redhead nodded politely, while his companion remained silent. ''Thank you.''

The two didn't look as if they were here for some fun, Naruki thought privately. Despite the hotel being a tourist attraction, she would not be surprised if they were here for an official business trip of some sort. The pair was dressed casually; the heavily tattooed redhead in a simple dark scarlet kimono, and the other man dressed in a silk white haori with light blue robes rustling underneath. Yet their expressions looked practically deadpan- the long dark-haired man's eyes were in fact lightly closed, as if absolutely disinterested in his beautifully plush surroundings.

If this was their vacation, Naruki mulled, then it seemed a rather dull vacation for them.

Determined to impress, however, the assistant manager moved past the reception counter and began politely guiding the guests across the spacious, elaborate air-conditioned lounge of the hotel. After all, the men were among the special few guests who had reserved the Emperor Suites, and even if she had not heard of their names before in the country- there was no doubt that the pair were patrons of higher standing within the hierarchy here. Naruki had served celebrities and nobility before within the hotel, and something about the reserved, graceful air from one of the guests vaguely reminded the female of her previous said experiences.

They quietly moved on, feet gliding briskly across the smooth timber floor, and surrounding the trio were other people leisurely strolling about- mostly dressed in traditionally colourful kimonos as well, while a vast bamboo water fountain _popped_ serenely from the centre of the enormous lounge. It was a known fact that all of the resort staff here usually donned Japanese robes, save for the manager, who was presently out of sight.

Not too long later the trio then crossed a small, deliberately designed arched wooden bridge within the hotel's large corridor as they eventually transversed away from the lounge- and all the while Naruki went on cordially to her patrons about the numerous attractions of the resort.

''Here we have our famous hot springs, jacuzzis, swimming pools, and massage services are of course also available,'' she gushed warmly. ''All of this is in our spa package. If you'd like something more adventurous than that, however, there is of course the beach- and we have our own sport halls available as well, plus there are many shops in our own personal Sakura town just by the hotel. I assure you both that you will be spoilt for choice.''

For the first time since their arrival, the red-haired man looked interested, although his silent companion appeared as serenely indifferent as ever beside him.

''Shops? What do they sell?'' Abarai Renji asked.

''All kinds of products, sir,'' Naruki replied eagerly, bowing slightly, her yukata rustling. ''Clothes of the latest fashion, souvenirs, and other accessories."

She straightened up. "But of course- before you begin your activities, surely you must both be currently starved from your long journey here. Allow me to invite you to our buffet luncheon- in fact, it happens that our renowned singer Daffodil will also be performing there. Surely you must have heard of her. She is actually one of the main highlights of our resort.''

The red-haired male nodded, scratching his chin. ''Ah. I've seen her name in the brochure, I think.''

Naruki smiled in response, as the small group finally came to a stop before a large lavish, oak door that loomed before them. ''Yes. Without Daffodil- well, our resort might not be as successful as it is so now.'' Demurely the middle-aged woman bowed once more, one hand reaching out to grasp the side of the gigantic door. ''Please, enjoy.''

* * *

Renji turned to his superior, his tattooed face looking slightly excited from where they sat side by side on the tatami mats by the lowly-inclined refined bamboo tables. Already mouth-watering dishes of sushi and miso soup were being served, including small clay cups of expensive, fragrant tea. The dining hall was packed- with many other patrons also seated within the luxurious, peaceful atmosphere while some of them explored around the numerous rows of varying culinary delights offered on the buffet tables.

Now- for Renji, this was the life. The man just couldn't wait to head back to Soul Society soon and tell Hisagi and Ikkaku about it. Sure, the ambience here was not very different from what he usually experienced in Sereitei (not exactly modern) but it was the lifestyle of the wealthy, and the red-haired male was just beside himself.

And it was all free for him! All free!

''This isn't so bad, is it, Taicho?'' Renji asked, picking his chopsticks up. ''Judging from what the woman said just now about this place- it's actually pretty good.''

Byakuya lowered his clay cup of tea with long, adroit fingers, exotically slanted eyes still closed with disregard. He spoke quietly.

''It is... decidedly unimpressive.''

The vice-captain flinched slightly. ''Ah. I... I see.''

The male was saved from the rather awkward situation (for him, anyway) when the MC proceeded to abruptly announce the well-known singer 'Miss Daffodil''s entrance on the stage. It seemed the female performer was truly rather popular in this resort, for most of the dining patrons looked madly enthusiastic as they applauded loudly for her even before her appearance. And then- the dark red curtains rippled slightly as the grand material began to part above the rising stage, signalling the beginning of the performance.

Boredly, Renji picked up a sushi from his plate and shoved it into his month with relish, enjoying the delectable taste of glutinous rice and crunchy seaweed. It tasted like utter heaven, and he chewed vigorously onto it, so caught up in the delicious dish that he instinctively blocked out the light melody of a piano-driven piece which had begun to flow prettily within the hall.

And then- Kuchiki Byakuya suddenly stiffened beside him.

It was a subtle gesture, one so soundlessly subtle that if it weren't for the fact that Renji had been his lieutenant and partner for such a long time, the redhead might not had noticed. An average person, after all, would have none the ability to read Byakuya's almost unrevealing body language. But somewhat notice Renji did, and the younger male turned to look curiously at his captain, his mouth still filled with overwhelmingly tasty sushi.

The silent male's tall back was strictly straight, his imposing, aristocratic figure discreetly tense and his artistic large hand had stilled noiselessly over his cup of tea. The exquisite dark silvery eyes were now finally open beneath long, flickering sooty lashes- and had also slightly widened with an enigmatic emotion Renji could not decipher.

The redhead quickly glanced in the direction of his captain's discerning, unwavering stare, right at where the stage was- and froze himself.

The now stunned vice-captain took in a sharp, shaking breath, his mouth wide open- he was nearly choking on the remains of sushi in his throat, and after a few long seconds, finally exhaled a single choked word that fell from his strangled lips. ''_Rukia.''_

His chopsticks nearly fell from his disbelieving fingers.

The first insane, impulsive thought that had sprung forth within his dazed mind was simple and at the same time utterly ridiculous- _Miss Daffodil was Rukia Kuchiki._

But upon taking a closer look at the revealed singer and after forcing himself to hastily regain his composure- Renji blinked confusedly, and stared. This woman on the stage was certainly not Rukia.

She was _enchanting_- beautiful, absolutely _beautiful_, and there was no doubt about that fact. The petite female was gently sashaying across the huge space of the wide stage, elegantly dressed in a figure-clinging outfit designed to resemble a kimono- but was most definitely not a kimono.

The torso half of her dress was a long-sleeved, pure ivory white, puffy top, the soft material only starting from right below her exposed, creamy shoulders, while delineating the modest mounds of her breasts before stretching onwards onto her flat belly- before being fastened around her perfect waistline by a light pink obi. And then the rest of her gorgeous costume simply ended off with a lengthy, darker pink skirt which snugly clung to her stunningly-shaped hips and lovely thighs before fashionably flowing out like flickering petals along her shapely legs.

And her face. Her _face._

It was no wonder that at first glance Renji had immediately associated her with Rukia. The basic features were the same- large violet eyes, heart-shaped pale face and little lips, plus those familiar silky dark bangs.

Yet now as he stared dazedly on, he began to realize that Daffodil did not look as much like Rukia as he had initially thought.

While Rukia's eyes were a rich, striking shade of violet, Daffodil's eyes were lighter, more akin to shimmering violet pools of intense liquid emotion. Her fine features appeared older than Rukia's, more mature, and also more delicate. While Rukia's beauty lay in the intensity of her vitality and vigour- this enthralling female's beauty seemed to arise from raw melancholy and her vulnerability.

Daffodil's small lips were painted a sensual dark red, and her eyes heavily made up with black mascara and eyeliner- her smooth complexion was absolutely pale and exquisite. Her beauty clearly did not just awe Renji alone, for the other dining patrons were still applauding passionately and some actually wolf-whistled from their seats.

However, Renji stubbornly clung to the feeling that he had seen this woman's face before prior to meeting her today, perhaps not as Rukia, but certainly in someone else. He had definitely seen her before somewhere.

And then it struck him.

The lieutenant had seen that delicate, gentle face plenty of times, hadn't he? He had seen that face from a precious photograph within the Captain's own personal shrine in the Sixth Division, had seen that face from another similar portrait located in the shrine of the Kuchiki Manor, and also in other private places from within the large manor.

Renji turned slightly, hesitantly, on the tatami mat.

Kuchiki Byakuya's face was now completely unreadable. It was as if the shutters in his expression, which had never been so much as opened in the first place, had now been pulled down entirely. The sculpted, sharp features of his regal semblance were absolutely deadpan, and yet- he was staring coolly with a frightening, almost predatory intensity at the female standing not far from them.

His deceased wife brought the microphone to her tender, gentle lips and began to sing.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! Thank you to everybody who reviewed!

Rose Attack: Thank you for your compliments! I like the idea of a gentle Hisana as a songstress, and I really hope it will work out for you as well!

Guest: Thank you! I'm glad you like my writing! You are very sweet!

sunev.31: Hi! And yes, Byakuya is one hot muffin! Thank you for your words of inspiration, I'm so overjoyed!

VioTanequil: Hello there! Thank you for your wonderful review! About your sweet suggestion, it's just that I like to add in a little description for my characters :-D but don't worry, I'll try to tune it down to make it easier for you!

sky1011: Yay! I I'm glad you like it so far! Thank you for your inspiring review!

Ana: Hi! Thank you for reviewing both my ByaHisa fics, I feel so overwhelmed with happiness and supported! I hope I don't disappoint!

Sweet Dumplings: Thank you for a review that is as sweet as your name! :-D Glad you find it interesting!

* * *

Renji liked songs. Back in Soul Society, there had been occasional performances sponsored by small, low-standing noble families during festive occasions, and the vocal exhibitions had always been opened to the public eye as its audience. Renji had naturally passed by along the crowded streets, and had often enjoyed listening along with his friends to the simple, melodious ballads sung sweetly by the songstresses.

This day, however, marked the first time where he finally got to truly experience firsthand the heart-stirring, hair-raising impact brought on by an incredible singer, and the chilling sentiment passionately expressed through the song she was performing.

For Daffodil was all about moments. She created them, right within the four enclosed walls of this lavish hall, and not just through her breathtaking, airy vocals.

From the very moment when she opened her mouth, Renji began to realize just why the petite female was a renowned songstress in this area- and why so many of the patrons in the Sakura Resort had been so wildly enthusiastic about her upon merely hearing her name.

She was good. Renji wasn't an expert or professional musically, but he at least knew that. He watched as the petite female gently grasped the microphone with slender, tiny fingers, her enchantingly large violet eyes half-lidded as she drawled out the mourning tones of a chilly, sad ballad, the haunting lyrics regarding a lover who had used her for his own selfish purposes.

She sang- and she sang as if she was the song itself.

Renji was now staring blankly at her, overwhelmed with awe. Who knew that someone who resembled Rukia so much could actually be so... feminine- quite unlike the tomboyish latter?

''Wow,'' he absently let out a soft reverent murmur, more to himself than anything, his black eyes admiringly taking in the parted red lips, and then the demure, clothed mounds of her breasts and the slight inward curves of her small waist. It was-

The red-haired male suddenly stiffened by his position on the tatami mat, his mind snapping back into abrupt focus. He had initially been of the opinion that nothing could distract him from the musical performance of this delightful, alluring female- but clearly he had been wrong. The suddenly dangerous, intimidating presence beside him finally registered his numbed senses and ripped him right out of his reverie. And then- a sudden surge of cold fear ran up his throat from literally nowhere.

He knew what was wrong- even before he found out.

Quietly Renji turned his head with slight hesitation, and instantly flinched as he caught sight of his captain, who was still seated with soundless grace beside him on the tatami mat. The raven-haired aristocrat was not looking fully at him, but rather was giving him an icy side-glance. That alone did the job, however. Renji felt his blood curdling at the frightening coldness reflected in the exquisitely narrow slate eyes- which was obviously directed at him.

Byakuya's silent displeasure was clear.

Silently the redhead cursed himself, the insides of his stomach constricting in humiliation and fear. Whatever that was going on here- the fact remained that this female looked just like the Captain's late wife, and here Renji was, openly ogling at her in front of said captain. This was not the first time Renji had accidentally ogled at women right in front of his superior (much to his everlasting embarrassment when he had finally noticed Byakuya's discerning glance on him), but this was definitely the first time he dearly regretted it so much.

Fuck. He had chosen to look at the wrong woman today.

Quickly the male went back to watching the performance, making sure this time that his gaze did not at all stray to any... inappropriate parts on Daffodil's gorgeous body. Being discreet wouldn't do him any good, he knew- his captain was so perceptive that it was terrifyingly uncanny . In any case, it seemed the short song was already drawing to a close; the singer was now belting out the last few notes of the brief ballad with a sinking finality, the black mic tilted almost dramatically within her pretty pink-nailed fingers.

Renji's eyes widened slightly when her scarlet lips abruptly broke into a small gentle, almost shy smile at the fluttering rounds of applause echoing across the hall. The gesture was so familiar that it briefly took him aback- for Daffodil's now tender yet distant smiling expression was the exact replica of the unspoken woman's face that he had glimpsed from the oil portraits belonging to Captain Kuchiki in his quarters. And just like that, while currently trying to avoid looking at Byakuya's quiet figure beside him- without doubt, Renji knew.

And he realized that if he knew, then his acute, unfathomable captain definitely knew as well, despite the unnerving, unreadable silence between them.

Hisana Kuchiki had been reincarnated.

* * *

Abarai Renji silently slid the shoji doors open and peered somewhat hesitantly into his superior's quarters. The pair currently resided in separate rooms of the Emperor Suite, although the large space was parted by a simple few walls.

The suites' lightly coloured upholstery was elegant and tasteful, and the tall wooden walls surrounding the room were intricately designed. While the furniture was scarce, the refined pieces of wardrobes, tables, and silk futon were no doubt expensive and impeccable, and also more than enough to suit the occupant's needs. Renji was certain that there was a jacuzzi in the round, white bathtub too.

Set in the old Japanese traditional fashion (in other words, similar to the Soul Society's environment, except no doubt more opulent and glamorous), the large papery shoji doors of the individual, posh suite could easily be pulled open to expose the fresh, crisp air and gorgeously earthen scenery of the crowded resort outside- consisting of willowy bamboo trees and man-made gurgling fountains. The refreshing, beautiful view of the tranquil blue sea by the packed vast, sandy beach a far distance nearby was also more than visible.

It was an incredible, yet peaceful suite. Despite that, however, Renji could not find it in himself to enjoy it - which was unfortunate, as opportunities for him to stay in such lavish places were rare. But honestly- what was he supposed to say, knowing that his captain's late wife was not truly gone, but had rather been reborn into a new life and was actually currently residing in the place they were staying at?

This simply brought coincidences to a new level. And perplexity, as well.

What was he supposed to say to his captain? He didn't even know how Kuchiki-Taichou was presently feeling; the dark-haired male had, as usual, been absolutely unfathomable throughout the end of the performance when the stage curtains had finally closed over Daffodil's figure. This, after all, was him seeing his wife for the first time in fifty years since her passing- Renji knew the captain had to be masking quite a lot of emotion there. It had to be.

The reasons were simple.

For within the fifty years of becoming a widower, Kuchiki Byakuya had not shown the slightest trace of romantic inclinations towards any other female, despite many's blatant interest in him. He had never been a romantic being, period. And yet his wife's portraits were situated in many places; in his private quarters in the Sixth Division, in his shrine within the Mansion and also in what Renji suspected to be many other concealed places. The noble's remaining faithfulness and devotion to his deceased spouse had often somewhat astonished Renji; the idea of his stoic superior being sentimental was not something he could wrap around his head.

It was also hence the reason why he was feeling so awkward right then as he hesitantly peered at the motionless, robed back facing him at where his captain currently sat calmly by a low night table. The silky mane of raven hair flowing across the powerful shoulders spoke nothing of what Byakuya could be thinking, nor could he see the older male's face. The fact that he was sitting behind the enigmatic noble gladdened and scared him at the same time.

''Um... Taichou,'' Renji finally forced out, still situated respectfully at the shoji door. ''About our mission...''

Byakuya's tall back remained straightly still. It was then that the flame-haired male noticed that his captain's robed arm was moving in small graceful motions over the night table, and that long, slender pale fingers were currently holding a black calligraphy brush across paper.

_Stroke. Stroke._ The bristles of the brush drifted skillfully and audibly along the sheet.

And then Byakuya broke the hush, his rich baritone quietly calm. ''You wished to say something, Renji?''

''Ah, yes!'' The lieutenant said hastily, not realising he had trailed off mid-sentence. ''About our mission, sir, what shall we do to begin?''

There was a short pause.

''It is late,'' Byakuya answered evenly, his large, adroit hand still slanted elegantly over his moving brush. ''Await my instructions tomorrow. You may retire for the day.''

Renji didn't know whether to whoop in joy or cringe. The truth was that it wasn't really that late; it was only nearing evening, and in all honesty there was plenty of time for them to begin investigating should they decide to. They would eventually have to be looking through the crime scenes of the fallen victims as reported by the Twelfth Division. Basically the lieutenant was being given by his superior an 'off-day' here in the luxurious resort, and somehow that delighted him and frustrated him at the same time. And the worst part was that he didn't know why.

''Understood, Taichou,'' he said obediently, lowering his spiky head. The man reached out and began closing the shoji door, only to pause once more, his tattooed hands tightening hesitantly over the papery material. ''Anou... Taichou...''

His dark-haired captain remained silent, the calligraphy brush still adroitly painting across the expensive paper.

It was now or never.

Renji ploughed on bravely. ''About the singer just now, Daffodil... What did you think about her?''

As soon as the words left his mouth he instantly regretted it. He had never felt so stupid; it was the most awkward and random question he had ever asked anyone in his life. And yet the male could not seem to help himself. He wanted to know- had to know what his superior was thinking.

There was a long silence, one filled with unspoken words and subtle tension. And then-

The large, elegant hand finally stilled above the paper.

''She was very skillful,'' Byakuya stated levelly, his deep, indecipherable voice somewhat softer than usual as he at last paused in the midst of his calligraphy. The aristocrat's head turned slightly towards his subordinate, revealing impenetrable slanted dark eyes. ''And you are dismissed, Renji.''

The redhead hastily bowed, before quietly closing the door fully this time. He recognized the cool finality in Kuchiki Byakuya's voice all too well.

* * *

Daffodil, as was her stage name, quietly slid into the cubicle of her shower. There were no traces of a smile on her subdued features now that she was enjoying some privacy; her expression was silent and pensive. She allowed the shower water to cascade down her bare, slender body in warm, comforting waves, her dark head tilted back against the cold wall of her bathroom.

She was troubled. Even more so than usual.

The veteran songstress happened to have a customary way with how she normally performed. The moment she stepped onto the stage- the same routine always ensued; she would gradually but steadily become lost in the song she was performing and fall headfirst into her own private, mesmerizing little world onstage. The faces of the audience would naturally melt away from her vision, and she would become oblivious to almost everything except for the performance.

As an entertainer who had been carrying out her line of work for almost a decade, Daffodil had swiftly gotten past her fear of public performing, despite her introverted preferences. She had learnt to do one thing best - to tune her audience out and simply focus on her singing.

Music was always one of the few beautiful experiences in the world, after all, even for someone as ugly like her.

Only today, during her afternoon performance- she had stumbled across the shocking inability to consume herself into the melodies of her ballad. She was unable to tune her surroundings out; unable to concentrate.

It had terrified her. This anomaly had never occurred for the past years of her life as a disciplined performer, and she simply could not fathom its sudden existence. The main reason she could currently think of was _the audience_.

The audience. They had not been much of an issue to her in a long while; she had long learnt to view them as a sea of countless, similar heads that were nothing to be too troubled about, and also were increasingly insignificant in her eyes. Only today- it had not been so.

She had been watched.

_Naturally_, one would say, _as an audience why shouldn't she be watched? That was what they were for. To watch her._

Yet it was at that very moment that the female had genuinely comprehended a whole new meaning of being watched by the audience; to actually feel a particular gaze so penetrating and intense that it appeared to burn her skin and seep into her nerves while she was onstage today. The acuteness of the mysterious, quiet gaze had been exceptionally notable- it seemed to overwhelm her among the many others in the audience. She had felt goosebumps erupt along her pale flesh, and while it perturbed her, she couldn't exactly say she had felt ... violated either. Because she hadn't.

It had just been so very strange.

And all of a sudden, she was feeling self-conscious for what seemed like the first time in years, and had offhandedly chosen to draw the song to a close sooner than it was meant to be. The musicians had been bewildered, having to suddenly conform to her change of pace, and had confronted her afterwards backstage, to which she had apologized to them profusely.

In the end, she hadn't dared to even look properly at her audience- and Daffodil did not even know why. Was she terrified at what she would find?

The woman sighed frustratedly against the soft gushing of bathwater. Was she going crazy?

Desperate to distract herself from the peculiar yet troubling turbulence of thoughts swirling within her, the female hastily increased the swirling volume of warm water gently pelting her tiny body, allowing the heat to rise through her veins. Her eyes lowered at the beginning tinges of arousal forming in her pelvis, and her breath escaped her pink lips in tiny puffs.

Unconsciously her fingers quietly approached the opening of her delicate womanhood, going past the small thatch of dark curls before prodding the soft, sensitive skin there. She closed her eyes and allowed her experienced fingertips to explore the now pulsating walls of her opening, feeling the expected moisture there. Quickly she searched for her clit, not wanting to drag this out.

It didn't take her long to bring herself to a brief orgasm; she let out a little delighted cry and screwed up the delicate features of her face as her back arched. Slight liquid squirted onto her trembling fingers from her throbbing womanhood, and she gasped at the pleasure running through her body.

She had been so stressed lately, and this had been her guilty pleasure for a long time since to deal with it. Tiredly the woman now slumped to the wet ground, the water from the shower falling onto her face. It riveted down her flushed cheeks, almost like the trickling of tears.


End file.
